


A Broken Heart is Blind

by emeraldorchids



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:04:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldorchids/pseuds/emeraldorchids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something changes in Paris the night Miranda receives divorce papers. Andrea cancels her dinner with Christian in case Miranda needs her...and she soon finds herself in a secluded resort with the editor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Andrea returned to her hotel room in shock. Miranda Priestly, Ice Queen and Devil Extraordinaire, apparently has a heart. Andrea quickly sent a message to Christian, canceling their dinner plans and explaining that something had come up and Miranda needed her assistance. Well, that was partially true—something had come up—but whether Andrea could provide any sort of comfort or assistance, or whether it would even be welcome was unknown.

"If he decides to rethink the divorce," Andrea couldn't get that out of her mind. She did not ask, but somehow she knew that this came as a surprise to Miranda. "Another divorce," echoed through her mind. And Miranda, she looked so defeated, so tired. Andrea knew that Miranda was still planning on attending her dinner that evening, but of course it would be useful for Andrea to be available when she returned, she surmised, in case she needed something or someone.

Andrea had never seen such vulnerability in a solitary human being before tonight—someone in the midst of collapse, the very ground she stood on crumbling rapidly beneath her feet. But, there was always Runway, Andrea thought. As long as she still had the magazine, she had something. Runway would always be her domain, her "shining beacon of hope" as Nigel had once referred to it.

It was in that moment that she finally realized the two sides of Miranda Priestly. Yes, she was a demanding bitch as a boss, but she was also a truly brilliant editor with a sharp eye, fresh take, and inventive mind. Until that night, it never truly occurred to Andrea that there was another, totally separate, totally different side to the woman. Of course, Andrea had overheard conversations Miranda had with her children, but until tonight, she thought all of those conversations were calculated, acting out a part for her girls.

No. Andrea sees it all now. The real Miranda is symmetrical, black & white, yin & yang. Miranda's demanding, high standards, acerbic tongue, sometimes purely evil spirit are perfectly complemented by the supportive mother, loving wife, vulnerable woman.

Andrea thought back to the woman in the next room she left not a long time ago—she was probably dressed already. The dinner was scheduled to begin at 7:30, and she expected Miranda to stay no later than 8:30—and that was on a good day. Today would be questionable at best. Surely the editor-in-chief would not actually request her company, because she did technically still have the evening off. So, Andrea improvised and decided to do something for Miranda when she returned. To find some way to help.

Andrea heard Miranda leave her room at 7:25, and she immediately called down to room service. Ten minutes later, Andrea was arranging some nonfat chocolate croissants, strawberries, an always-hot electric carafe of coffee, and a bottle of chardonnay. Andrea considered drawing Miranda a bath, but without knowing exactly when she would return, the water would surely be too cold. Sighing, Andrea looked around the room for something else. She didn't want to wait for Miranda, but at the same time, she wanted to remind her—encourage her even—that she was just next door and would still be awake.

Darting back into her room, Andrea selected one of the new notecards she just purchased at a lovely Parisian boutique and wrote Miranda a note:

> _Miranda,_   
>  _If you find the need to 'unwind' after your evening, please enjoy the wine, extra-hot coffee, croissants & fruit. If you need anything else—I'm just next door, and am available all evening, no matter the hour, no excuses necessary._
> 
> _Warmly,_   
>  _Andrea_

Once she finally settled on the wording, Andrea set the card on the cart in Miranda's suite and returned to her own room, shutting, but not locking their adjoining door. Andrea slipped out of her pencil skirt and blouse and threw on her green silk pajama set. As she curled up on her bed, she pulled out her Kindle and began to read, forcing herself to stay awake and wait for Miranda to return.

"Jacques, be here to pick me up promptly at 8:05pm." Miranda said as she stepped out of the car and headed for the hotel lobby. Tonight's dinner was designed to be an intimate affair for fashion royalty. Miranda spent most of her year working with these designers and photographers; at parties, she preferred to mingle amongst the younger, up-and-coming talent, whose careers she could mould. Tonight, she really wasn't interested in conversation with Tom or Marc or Max or Donna or Diane. As she suspected, there were no tables and chairs, only a few scattered high-top tables, as dinner consisted of small bites of food that waltzed in and out of the room on the waiters' trays. Since Miranda Priestly simply refused to eat whilst standing, she sipped her Veuve Clicquot, silently mingling with the guests, offering a smile or nod. Just enough so they remember I was here, she thought to herself.

At 8pm sharp, Miranda deposited her champagne flute on a tray and silently slipped out, into the back of her waiting car and back to her own hotel. As she leaned back into the seat of the car, she replayed the events of her day over and over in her mind. The email from Stephen. Their heated argument on the phone. The scarring words he said to her. The pain she felt afterwards. Anger. Guilt. Grief. If nothing else, dinner this evening at least had the effect of distracting her from the disaster that was her life at the moment. Perhaps she should have stayed, she thought to herself. Just after 8, she arrived back at her hotel. Heading through the lobby towards the elevators, she contemplated stopping at the hotel bar for a drink, but mingling with the Vogue team would not be worth it.

Once upstairs, Miranda immediately noticed the room service cart in the middle of her sitting room. She paused, reading the handwritten notecard. Sighing, a smile crept across her face as she uncorked and poured herself a glass of rich, oaky wine. It was as if Andrea inherently knew what Miranda needed. After several glasses of wine, Miranda was feeling quite relaxed. She leaned into the corner of the sofa, her neck resting in the corner between the back and armrest, as she gazed out at the Paris skyline. Finishing the last drops of wine, she toed off her Prada heels and rolled down her Donna Karan stockings, leaving them in a neat pile next to the couch. She was glad to be wearing a soft, cotton/spandex wrap dress that allowed her to relax on the couch without changing into something else.

It was nearly 10pm. Miranda's head lay back, resting on the couch. Her eyes were closed, but that did not prevent the tears from streaming down her face, trailing down her chin and throat. Here she was, fifty-one years old, crying alone in Paris during Fashion Week. It was not so much the divorce, but she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps it did affect her more than she ever thought possible.

Andrea did say, "no excuses necessary," didn't she, Miranda wondered. She stood and ran her hands through her hair before walking towards the door separating her suite from her assistant's. She paused to listen for signs that Andrea was awake, but heard nothing. Oh, this is ridiculous, she thought to herself as she began to knock softly on the door. Receiving no response, she knocked again—louder this time—and called Andrea's name.

The door quickly opened and Miranda licked her lips as she looked at Andrea, her slim figure in emerald silk pants, a luxurious sateen camisole, and an emerald green silk pajama top, through which Miranda could see the young woman's taut nipples. "Yes, Miranda?" Andrea asked, smiling.

"Umm—" Miranda said, her breath stolen by the sight of the breathtaking young woman before her, relaxed, without makeup or jewels. Miranda wasn't sure what to say…Hi? I'm lonely and feeling sorry for myself? No, that certainly would not do. Andrea politely waited for Miranda to string a sentence together.

"Um, thank you, Andrea, for the goodies. I do appreciate it," she said softly, knowing how uncharacteristic it would be for Andrea to hear those words coming from her mouth.

"Would you like to come in?" Andrea said, stepping back from the doorway.

Miranda nodded and walked towards the bed. She hadn't seen such sincerity in ages, and seeing it so vividly in Andrea's eyes simply unnerved her. Andrea left the door cracked open and rushed to the bed to straighten out the comforter she had been laying atop.

"Sorry I don't have much seating," Andrea said shyly as Miranda sat at the foot of the bed, her hands on either side of her legs while her head hung down. Andrea's heart broke watching Miranda like this, but she was still very scared to sit next to her, so she stood. "Do you want to talk about anything?" Andrea casually asked, attempting to break the silence that was growing between them.

"No! No, I don't," Miranda quickly spat. "What am I supposed to talk about? How lonely I am? That I'm a failure? How my husband's departure hurts me more than anyone would think? That even though I was cruel to Stephen, I've always had difficulty dealing with loss? How I—Miranda Priestly—need someone, anyone right now? Is that what I should talk about?"

As Miranda spoke, Andrea slowly stepped back. "I—I don't know what to say, Miranda."

"Of course you don't, Andrea. No one ever knows what to say to me. Everyone leaves me out, leaves me alone. No one talks to me. I'm a dragon, isn't that what they call me?" Miranda hissed as tears began falling down her face.

Andrea walked over towards the bed, her heart beating quicker than ever. Miranda revealed so much, leaving herself incredibly vulnerable. The sudden transparency left Andrea overwhelmed, and all she could do was stare.

"You're not a dragon, Miranda," Andrea said softly as she squatted in front of Miranda, attempting to meet her downcast eyes. "Please, I love that you trust me—that you feel comfortable talking to me. It just came as a surprise, Miranda." Andrea softly brushed her hand up and down Miranda's shin as she tried to force eye contact with the older woman.

Miranda's eyes instantly looked upward as she felt Andrea's soft touch on her leg. "You're never truly alone, Miranda," Andrea added.

Miranda smiled and looked into Andrea's eyes, taking her hand and tugging her softly off the floor and onto the bed next to her. Miranda held her hand and watched the younger woman's eyes for several minutes, searching for signs of insincerity, cruelty, or spite, but she found only warmth and compassion.

"I apologize for throwing this all at you tonight. I know this was supposed to be your free evening. You probably didn't even get to explore Paris."

"Paris will always be here," Andrea quickly said. "I chose to stay here and wait for you." She paused before adding, "I thought you might need someone."

Tears began welling up in Miranda's eyes again. "But—" she began, "what have I done to deserve this?" She honestly looked quite stupefied.

Andrea took a chance and held her arm out. Without hesitation, Miranda's shoulders fell into Andrea, who captured her in an embrace. "You don't have to do anything," she said as she held Miranda tightly, running her hand up and down her back. "Sometimes people do things just because you're you."

Miranda was overflowing with emotion—loneliness, loss, and the unexpected kindness from Andrea. Miranda closed her eyes as she buried her head deeper into Andrea's neck, her hands clutching tightly at the lapels of Andrea's emerald silk nightshirt. Andrea soothingly ran her hand up and down Miranda's back, her calming voice whispering into her ear, "Shh, it's okay. It's going to be okay."

After nearly thirty minutes, Miranda regained her breath and slowly pushed herself off Andrea's chest, wiping her eyes. "It's nearly midnight," Miranda said. "I should get back and let you get to sleep."

Andrea nodded. She understood that this was probably Miranda's way of stepping back kindly. Of course Andrea wouldn't mind holding Miranda forever, but she knew better than to push the limits.

"Miranda, I can leave the adjoining door open tonight," Andrea suggested.

"That would be suitable," Miranda replied as she stood and left the room, leaving the adjoining door open. "Tomorrow will be a long day, I fear, Andrea."

Again, Andrea nodded. "Let me know if you need anything else," she said before turning out the light in her bedroom and climbing under the covers. Miranda turned the lights out in her room. She stepped into her bathroom and turned on the shower. Her dress slowly fell to the floor. The hot water seared her skin, causing her to arch her back into the hot water. She let out a low moan, the water titillating her senses. She stepped out and slipped into a long ivory silk nightgown and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. It was entirely dark in her bedroom, the thick, heavy curtains drawn tightly, keeping the lights of the city from casting shadows on her walls.

She sat in the dark for nearly ten minutes before standing and walking over towards Andrea's room. She hesitated as she stood next to Andrea's bed, the young woman already sound asleep. She knew that lying alone in her own bed would lead to a restless night, broken sleep, and nightmares, none of which she particularly wanted to deal with right now. Selfishly, she knew that sleeping next to Andrea would allow her to rest.

Without saying a word, Miranda lifted the covers and climbed into bed next to Andrea, careful not to wake her. Even with the space between them, she could feel Andrea's presence, hear her breathing. Like magic, Miranda drifted off to sleep.

They slept silently all night, only to be awoken by a faint knocking. Nigel stood outside Miranda's door, impatiently knocking before he pulled his keycard out and let himself in. "Miranda, where—" he stopped when he noticed the blinds drawn, Miranda's bed still made.

In the adjoining room, Miranda held her breath, having woken up at Nigel's words. Somehow, in the middle of the night, she and Andrea appear to have repositioned themselves. Miranda was lying on her back in the middle of the bed, and the younger woman was curled up next to her, her arm draped across Miranda's body, her head resting on Miranda's shoulder. Miranda took a deep breath and felt Andrea's hand, cupping her breast through the fine silk. Miranda tried to pull the cover up, but the slight movement disturbed Andrea, who, in her sleep, began running her thumb back and forth over Miranda's nipple.

Miranda froze, holding her breath and trying to swallow her moan as she felt wetness pooling between her legs.

"Hey, Six, have you seen—" Nigel began, freezing in his steps, "Oh, fuck."

"Nigel, close your mouth." Miranda ordered. "Andrea is still asleep. And it's not like anything happened."

"Miranda, I don't really care. It's ten o'clock! You missed Max Azria and probably won't make DVF now!"

"Shit!" Miranda hissed, carefully pushing Andrea off her and staggering to her own bedroom. As Miranda walked past Nigel, he couldn't help but watch in awe.

"Miranda," he whispered, "You—you really look amazing. I—wow. I haven't seen you in years. You've still got it."

Miranda stopped and turned to Nigel, glaring at him as blush crept across her face before she ducked into the bathroom to get together.

"Nigel?" Andrea asked she sat up in bed. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, Six, I think I could ask you the same question. Jumping from Mr. Thompson's bed to Ms. Priestly's?" He said, raising his eyebrow.

"No! Nigel—I cancelled dinner with Christian. Miranda—she—she needed me, needed someone. She was lonely."

"I don't buy that." Nigel said, "This discussion is not over," he warned, "Go get ready now, and know that if you fuck with Miranda, I will make sure you never see the light of day, got it?"

Andrea nodded and jumped out of bed, quickly getting dressed for the day.


	2. Chapter 2

That day was long, indeed. Miranda's schedule was full from noon until nearly midnight, due to last-minute meetings with Max and Diane to make up for missing their shows. Miranda and Andrea hardly spoke all day.

After one of the shows, Nigel pulled Andrea aside into a corner. "Okay, Six. What was going on last night?"

"I don't know, honestly. Miranda was so upset, and it was like I could just tell. I stayed in because I knew she would probably be home from her dinner early, and I wanted to make her comfortable, to be there if she wanted to talk."

"Come on, seriously? Everyone knows Miranda never 'talks.'"

"No, I know. And that was what was so weird. She  _did_  talk to me. Nigel, she's going through a lot right now. She cried, and I was there for her."

"Andy, do you really expect me to believe that Miranda Priestly cried to  _you_? Be realistic, at least."

"Nigel," Andrea said, "I am. It happened. I offered to leave the adjoining door open in case she needed anything during the night, and when I woke up, she was laying next to me."

"But it was you who were draped around her—your hands were on her body, Six."

"She didn't push me away, did she?"

"You care about her, don't you, Six?" Nigel asked.

"Yeah, I guess I do. Funny, huh?" Andrea replied.

"Why?"

"Just because. She's so vulnerable and real—it's amazing to see that wrapped up in one woman and then, for her to cry that she's lonely, it's shocking."

"I swear, I've known this woman for nearly thirty years, and never would I consider her  _vulnerable_ or  _real. Lonely,_ perhaps, but that's it," Nigel said.

"Nige, she's been different around me lately. Like no makeup and holding my hand different."

"Wow," Nigel said. "Well, I guess everyone is capable of change. But I do not want to deal with the fallout if you betray her."

"Oh Nigel, I could never do that!" Andrea exclaimed.

"Remember that Miranda looks into  _everything_  and sees  _every angle_  of everything you do or don't do. Don't hurt her."

Andrea didn't respond, but instead locked eyes with someone over Nigel's shoulder.

"Andrea," Miranda began, "Cancel my evening."

Nigel spun around to face Miranda, "Your  _entire_  evening? Even John Galliano's party? Miranda, you have to make an appearance."

"Fine," Miranda spat, "I will make a brief appearance, and be back at my hotel by 9pm."

Andrea nodded and began sending emails to make arrangements. Looking up and locking eyes with Miranda, Andrea searched her eyes, checking to see if everything was alright. Miranda closed her eyes and nodded ever-so-slightly at Andrea.

Later that afternoon, Miranda was getting ready for the Galliano ball. "Andrea, have Jacques pick me up at 8:45 sharp."

"Yes, Miranda. Will there be anything else?"

"No," Miranda said, "not yet," she added with a wink as she left to meet the driver downstairs.

Andrea returned to her room and texted Jacques:  _Please pick me up after you drop Miranda off. I will wait for her to exit the ball. Don't tell Miranda, please. -A_

She stuffed a few items into her oversized Chloe bag and headed downstairs to wait for Jacques. As she sat in the back of the towncar, waiting for Miranda outside the ball, she grew nervous. What if Miranda chose to bring someone with her? Or what if she misread her and she actually didn't want to see Andrea again.

Suddenly, Jacques opened the door and Miranda slid into the backseat, letting out a loud sigh. "Oh!" she exclaimed as she noticed the woman sitting next to her. Jacques shut the car door and slipped into the driver's seat. "Jacques, drive around for a bit, please. Show me some scenery. Oh, and privacy screen, please," Miranda said.

"Come here," she said, motioning for Andrea to move closer. Andrea moved next to Miranda on the large leather seat. "Since you never got to see the city, we can drive around for a while, if that's alright with you…?"

"Yes, that would be lovely," Andrea said as she leaned her head on Miranda's shoulder.

"Andrea, have you ever worn Christian Siriano pumps?"

"No, I can't say that I have. They are gorgeous, though."

"Well, yes, but they are the most uncomfortable," she said as she leaned over and unbuckled the straps, "—shoes that I have ever worn! Ooh," Miranda exclaimed as she kicked the shoes off and stretched her feet.

Andrea reached over and ran her hand down Miranda's left leg, lifting her ankles and pulling them across her own legs. "Andrea, what are you—oh— _dooOOoing_?" Miranda moaned as she readjusted herself on the seat and closed her eyes, allowing Andrea to massage her feet.

Andrea giggled as she continued to caress and tug at Miranda's feet. "Oh my good, Andrea, this feels divine."

"Can I remove your stockings?" Andrea asked.

"My—my what?"

"Stockings, nylons, Miranda. I imagine it would be more soothing if I was rubbing your skin directly."

"Oh," Miranda said, "yes, of course."

Andrea slowly slid her hand up Miranda's leg underneath her dress, searching for the top of her stockings. As Andrea's fingers danced across Miranda's skin, inching closer and closer to her burning core, Miranda held her breath, trying to remain perfectly still.

Andrea reached the lacy upper ridge of the stockings and ran her hand all the way around Miranda's leg, searching for garter belt clips. When she found none, she slowly began rolling he stocking down Miranda's leg, first the right, then the left. Depositing the thin fabric on the floor of the car, she resumed her ministrations on Miranda's feet. Feeling the soft, porcelain white skin under her fingers was overwhelming. She leaned over and pressed her lips lightly to the top of Miranda's foot, continuing up her ankle and leg with feather-light kisses.

"Andrea," Miranda whispered as she pulled her legs away, setting her feet back on the floor. "You're missing the Paris sights," Miranda said as she wrapped her arms around Andrea's waist and pulled her closer. Miranda set her chin on Andrea's shoulder and hummed with delight as Andrea pressed her back into Miranda. "It's been so long," Miranda whispered, "since I've been this close to someone."

"But your daughters, surely—" Andrea said.

"No, actually. I'd rather not talk about them."

"Did something happen, Miranda? Are they okay?"

Miranda sighed. "I spoke with them earlier today. They have decided to extend their stay with their father…until further notice."

"Oh, Miranda, I'm so sorry," Andrea said, reaching her hand up and brushing Miranda's cheek. "They're still young, though. I'm sure they'll come around," she added.

"Yes, well, like I said, I would rather not talk about them. Not tonight."

Andrea smiled and snuggled further into Miranda's arms. "Let's head back," she said.

Miranda pressed the intercom and said, "Jacques, we can return to the hotel now.


	3. Chapter 3

When they returned to the hotel, a party was just starting in the hotel's ballroom, and there were many people milling about in the lobby, elevators, and hallways. Miranda wanted to hold Andrea's hand so badly, but she knew Andrea understood why they needed to part. As they reached their suites, Miranda nodded her head to indicate that Andrea should enter her own suite.

"Andrea, I'll expect my coffee at 6am tomorrow. And drop off the final version of my schedule as soon as possible," Miranda said before she stepped into her room and shut the door quickly behind her, dodging out of the way of another guest walking down the hallway.

Andrea was slightly confused—did Miranda really want her schedule?—but also slipped into her own room and set her things down. Immediately, she heard impatient knocking at the adjoining door. Andrea quickly unlocked the door and was pulled into Miranda's suite.

Miranda pushed her up against the doorway, pinning her arms at her sides. "Andrea," she whispered into the young woman's ear, "no more teasing." She smiled against Andreas cheek before her tongue darted out and began sucking gently on her ear lobe.

Andrea moaned and arched her back away from the door, aching for Miranda's touch. "Mmm," Miranda whispered, letting go of Andrea's ear, "you know, that car ride was torturous, trying to keep my hands off you." Miranda slowly began blowing on Andrea's neck and collarbone, her hot breath making Andrea's skin twitch. "And now you get a little…taste…of it," she added, as she slipped her tongue between Andrea's luscious lips.

Miranda quickly pulled her lips away from Andrea, leaving her gasping for more. Taking Andrea by her wrists, she tugged her away from the wall and pushed her backwards into the sofa. Miranda kneeled next to the sofa, pushing the coffee table backwards and out of the way. She slowly ran her hands up Andrea's legs, pushing sliding her dress up around her waist as she reached her thighs. Miranda unclipped her stockings from the garter belt, and with her teeth, she pulled them all the way down Andrea's leg very slowly, first the right, then the left.

Andrea writhed as Miranda's lips and tongue grazed down her legs. "Oh god, Mirandaaaa," she moaned as her hips bucked off the couch, eager for the woman's touch. Leaning forward, she ran her fingers through Miranda's hair, softly tugging her up towards the couch. Miranda crawled up onto the sofa, lifting her dress so she could straddle the young woman's legs.

"Andrea," Miranda gasped as she leaned forward, pressing the length of her torso against Andrea. Miranda's eyes gleamed with desire. She couldn't decide what she wanted to kiss first: Andrea's lips, her neck, her breasts. She anxiously darted her head to the left and to the right, finally taking Andrea's face in her hands and pressing her lips to the young woman's, desperate for her touch. Andrea arched into the kiss and moved her hands to Miranda's hips, running them up and down her sides.

Wrapping one arm around her body, Andrea used her other hand to softly push back Miranda's shoulder. "Miranda, relax," Andrea whispered as she softly pressed her lips to Miranda's for a chaste kiss. "We have all evening," she added.

A blush crept across Miranda's skin and she buried her face in Andrea's neck. "I'm sorry. I was just overwhelmed," she said. "Andrea," she began hesitantly, "are you—um, uh, okay—with this? I don't want to pressure you—or, I mean, if—"

"Shh, Miranda," Andrea said, pressing kisses to her soft cheeks. "No pressure, I promise."

"Well, if this is just a one-time thing, that's fine, we can keep it discreet, it's just—"

"Miranda," Andrea said, taking her shoulders and looking deeply into her eyes, "I want this, whether you need it to be one-time or many times."

Miranda stared at Andrea, at a loss for words. "It's just—this seems too good to be true." Andrea smiled and began kissing Miranda's neck, trailing kisses across her chest and between her breasts. "Take this off me," Miranda said, tugging at the ribbed torso of her strapless dress.

Andrea pushed Miranda off of her and stood next to her, her hands raking Miranda's body, slowly unhooking the back. Miranda moaned as Andrea's hands pressed against her bare skin and she began moving towards the bedroom, tearing Andrea's clothes off along the way.

Miranda grasped the damp sheets as Andrea curled up behind her, their bodies fitting together perfectly. They had been pleasuring each other for hours, and both women were hot, sweaty, and sticky. Miranda was exhausted. She could not keep up with the young woman, but yet she wanted more.

"Darling," she said breathlessly, "can we maybe rest for a few minutes?"

"Aww," Andrea whined, "if you insist, Miranda," she said, kissing her before pulling the covers up around her.

Just then, Andrea's cell phone rang. "Hello?" she answered. It was nearly three o'clock in the morning.

"Andy, listen. It's Leslie. Sorry to wake you, but we need to talk."

"Okay, what's wrong?" Andrea asked.

"Stephen sold the divorce story to The Post, and it's going to press in two hours for tomorrow's issue. I can't do anything to stop it. Unless we have something better to distract readers, we're fucked."

"Shit!" Andrea exclaimed as she jumped out of the bed and began pacing back and forth, naked. "Hey, do you have Elizabeth's number at New York Times?"

"The style columnist? Yes, of course."

"See when that section goes to press. Beg her for space. I have an idea."

"Uh, Andy, we have like an hour. Who are you going to find and who is going to write it?"

"I have a plan. I'll have you something in an hour. Call me back if Elizabeth can't make it work."

"Okay, Andy. I'm counting on you. Are you really planning on waking Miranda up at this hour?"

"Umm, something like that," Andrea said. "Gotta go, thanks!"

"Who was that?" Miranda asked, her uncanny ability to think of work when Andrea was standing naked before her.

"Leslie," Andrea said as she began to her conversation to Miranda.

"Well," Miranda sighed, looking up at the ceiling, "What are we going to do?" Miranda was wrapped in the sheet, resting against the headboard.

"Miranda, I can easily write up any old 1000-word piece. But my idea is for you to tell your side, like you told me yesterday about being lonely and today about the girls. It's that honest, vulnerable stuff that trumps Page Six garbage any day."

"You really think that's the right thing to do? Andrea, I have never exposed that side of myself to anyone—not even my husbands. No one will believe it."

"Miranda, it's your decision, and I know we don't have a lot of time, but I think it's a really good idea, even if we weren't forced to do it."

Miranda sat in silence for a minute, her head in her hands. After several minutes, she looked up, "Well? Where is your computer, Andrea?"

Andrea smiled and rushed to get her laptop. "Andrea, let me know if I go too quickly. I do want time to peruse the story before we email it."

"Of course, Miranda," she responded.

"And Andrea, I do not wish to return to New York right now. We need to schedule a trip—one, no, two weeks—starting tomorrow. But now, let's work. Where should I begin?"

Andrea wrote a post-it to schedule a two-week trip following Paris. "Um, let's start with yesterday afternoon. Your mindset right before you received the divorce papers…"

Miranda followed Andrea's prompts for the next forty-five minutes, until her emotions were spilled out into 1,200 words. Miranda sat next to Andrea, reading through the article and making a few minor changes, mostly in regards to word choice. It was less than one hour since Andrea ended the call with Leslie and she was emailing the final draft to Leslie and Elizabeth.

Once Leslie confirmed that they received it and it would run in the paper that morning, Andrea closed her computer and turned to Miranda. "Um, I guess I'll just go back to my room now," she said, her eyes cast down at the floor.

"No," Miranda said, stretching her arm across the bed, "please stay here." She looked up, her eyes pleading. "Please don't leave me…not tonight."

Andrea set her computer on the nightstand and crawled back into bed, wrapping her arms around Miranda's body. "Oh, Miranda," she said as she buried her face in Miranda's neck. "I'm here. I'll stay. I'll stay here as long as you'd like."

"Andrea," she whispered, "I don't want to go to the banquet tomorrow. Everyone there—they will surely have the news by then."

"Okay, let's play things by ear. If it's too much, we can make an excuse for you and Nigel and I can handle it," Andrea offered.

"And by 1pm, I want to be on a plane or train or something."

"Sure," Andrea said. "Would you like to spend your two weeks in the same place, or would you prefer to travel to different places? The States? Abroad?"

"Andrea, I don't really care. I don't want to deal with it. Pick a location that's peaceful and isolated, wherever you'd like to go, and just make sure that the Runway staff know we will be unreachable for two full weeks."

"Of course," Andrea said. "I will take care of that in the morning…wait, we?"

"Yes, you and I. Did I not make that clear?" Miranda asked.

"I—I didn't want to presume. Of course, I'd be more than happy to accompany you, Miranda. But what about Runway?"

"Emily can handle things. Plus, it's practically expected for someone like me to have an assistant accompany her on such a trip."

Andrea wrapped her arms more tightly around Miranda, "that sounds lovely," she said. "I will arrange everything in the morning, or rather, in a few hours."

"Mmm," Miranda hummed as she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Andrea woke early and moved to a chair near Miranda's bed in order to check the news online. Stephen's story was pure trash, and of course the international celebrity gossip tabloids picked it up immediately, smearing Miranda's photo all over the internet. Andrea quickly got to work making calls to schedule Miranda's trip.

"…yes, perfect. Thank you so much, we'll see you soon," Andrea said as she ended her call.

"Andrea?" Miranda called, her body buried under a mountain of blankets.

"Good morning, Miranda," Andrea said, setting down her cell phone. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, given the circumstances, I slept incredibly well, and for four hours straight!" Miranda said with a chuckle. "Why are you up so early?"

"Making arrangements for our trip. Flight leaves Charles de Gaulle at 12:05, so I'm afraid neither of us will be able to attend the Runway benefit this afternoon."

"Oh, I see," Miranda said, "Did you schedule that on purpose?"

"There were two flights leaving CdG today, one at 12pm, the other at 11pm."

"You didn't answer my question, Andrea," Miranda said.

Andrea sighed. "Miranda, Stephen's story is all over the tabloids. I'm sure that in New York, your story will be quite successful, but I'm afraid Paris hasn't received that yet."

Miranda nodded. "I understand. I suppose it's good we got a head start, though." She stood up and grabbed her silk robe from the chair and tightly wrapped it around herself. "Where are we headed?"

"Seattle."

"What?!"

"Seattle, Washington. Actually, it's about two hours outside Seattle—Alderbrook Resort & Spa. It's remote, exclusive, luxurious, and far, far away from New York City and the world of fashion. I've booked us a two-bedroom cottage, if that's alright with you?"

"Well, it sounds splendid. I can't believe—how did you manage to book that already?"

"Really? You're not upset? I am fairly efficient, you know," Andrea said.

"Darling, why would I be upset?" Miranda said, walking over towards Andrea and taking her hand.

"I just thought you would like something more fancy."

"No, no, this sounds perfect," Miranda said, squeezing Andrea's hand.

"It's a twelve-hour flight," Andrea added, nervously.

"Will you be sitting next to me?" Miranda asked.

"Of course—we are in first-class and have at least one row to ourselves…there was plenty of space on the flight."

"Well then, I imagine we can think of ways to…entertain ourselves, no?" Miranda said, grinning.

Andrea smiled and pulled Miranda closer. "You do realize we are now free all morning…"

"Well, why on earth are we standing here?" Miranda asked with a gleam in her eye. She led Andrea back towards the bed, pausing to straighten the sheets and comforter before climbing into the center. She inhaled deeply, her eyes fluttering closed as her head tilted backwards and a low moan seeped from her throat. "My—my bed," she said, opening her eyes and curling up along Andrea's side, "it smells of you."

Andrea smiled and wrapped her arm around Miranda, intertwining their legs together. Miranda's arms traveled up and down Andrea's body as she nuzzled the young woman's neck. "Miranda," she said, "I could stay here forever."

"Really?" Miranda asked, raising herself on her elbow as she gazed down at Andrea.

"Yes, Miranda."

"Thank you," she said as tears began to stream down her face. "For everything, Andrea. Everything."

"Of course, Miranda."

"I suppose we should talk…about stuff," Miranda said, waving her hand in the air.

"Let's postpone that, shall we?"

"Andrea, I don't know. Shouldn't we at least—"

Andrea interrupted her by pressing a kiss to her lips. "Today will be difficult enough, I fear. Let's not overcomplicate things." Andrea brushed her thumb over Miranda's cheek. "We can talk when we arrive in Washington, okay? I promise."

Miranda nodded and snuggled back down into Andrea's body.

Jacques dropped Miranda and Andrea off at the airport with minimal baggage, instructions to send the rest of their luggage with the Runway staff. Andrea trailed behind Miranda in the airport, carrying both bags, as French paparazzos snapped pictures and hurled questions at Miranda in a variety of languages. "No comment," Miranda kept repeating. Though her head was held high, her eyes shielded by her dark Prada sunglasses, Andrea could see Miranda struggling. Maybe it was something about the way she said "No comment"— she sounded tired, pained. Andrea noticed the way she kept tilting her head to the right was different—it was more like she was stretching her neck than tilting to give the usual glare. Andrea sighed, hoping this vacation would help Miranda to find herself.

As much as Andrea enjoyed their recent time together, she was trying not to grow too attached. Miranda was grieving, and as much as Andrea wanted her, she knew Miranda was incredible vulnerable at a time like this. She wanted to help Miranda, help her through her loss, and help her get her confidence back from the inside out. Yes, she was attracted to Miranda. That, she could not deny, although seeing Miranda happy trumped all other things.

"Andrea," Miranda called impatiently. "Our passports and boarding passes, please?"

"Oh!" Andrea said, startled from her thoughts. "Here," she said, handing the documents over.

"Thank god those bloody cameras can't follow us beyond here," Miranda said under her breath. She turned to face the wall of cameras behind security. "Au revoir!" she said, blowing them a kiss and waving goodbye.

Andrea smiled and shook her head as she followed Miranda to the First Class Lounge, where they would wait for their flight. They sat in silence. Andrea offered to get coffee or water, but Miranda shook her head. Miranda stood and walked towards the window, standing, watching the crew prepare their plane. Andrea approached, and Miranda did not flinch.

"The precision in which each aluminum wing is crafted, sloped, secured. To think that a metal object, weighing nearly one million pounds, could fly through the air, soaring above clouds like a winged mammal. Even birds have hollow bones, allowing them to be lighter, so they can spread their wings and coast through the sky, nearly a thousand feet above the city. From their heights, size is made relative. Though they may only be the size of a human's foot on the ground, in the air, humans are reduced to the size of a fly. Yet, looking up at the birds, we carry on our day without even realizing they exist. We don't feel our own smallness in the world, unless we're soaring twenty-thousand feet, looking down as the airplane shoots into the clouds. Only then do we realize our own smallness, and then, it's often just for a fleeting instant." Miranda lifted her hand and began to trace the outline of the plane on the glass. "I thought I had it figured out, Andrea. I thought my marriage to Stephen would secure my future. A handsome, stable older man, working in finance, dresses up well in a tuxedo. I never loved him. I loved the idea of him. I was untouchable if I had a husband who posed well. My daughters, holding hands with daddy meant the press forgot about my pathetic attempt at single parenthood. Stephen and Irv have some mutual friends, so I always knew if he was up to something. And then there were the rumors. Before my girls were born, they were vicious—everything from 'old maid' to 'dyke in heels.' It was a selfish career decision to marry James and have a child, children. Not that I don't love them—you know how I treasure my girls—it's just, they were a means to an end. Kept the rumors and questions at bay. For years, I felt invincible, indestructible, like a bird soaring across the sky."

"Now boarding for international flight 1358 to Seattle, WA," a flight attendant announced over the speaker.

"Well," Miranda said, drawing her hand back and pulling her arm tightly around her bag. "Here we go," she said, turning and marching towards the gate.


	4. Chapter 4

Their flight was only half-full, and Miranda and Andrea were the only passengers in First Class. Miranda selected the extra-wide seat, which was basically a bench with a removable armrest in the middle. Andrea went to sit across the aisle from Miranda.

"Miranda, can I get you anything before we takeoff?" Andrea asked.

"No," she said, snapping her head and turning to look out the window.

"Hey," Andrea said softly, getting up from her seat to sit next to Miranda. She put her hand on Miranda's knee and quietly asked, "Is something wrong?"

Miranda shook her head and fought back tears. Never in her life had she felt so helpless, like she didn't control her own mind or body. Here she was, fifty-two-years-old, involved with her twenty-something assistant, and letting her insecurities tear through her facade. She took a few deep breaths and softly patted Andrea's hand as she pulled her knee away.

"I'm fine. A Pellegrino…please," she said.

"Of course," Andrea replied and quickly went to find a flight attendant.

While Andrea fetched a drink, Miranda took the opportunity to slip off her shoes and pull her DKNY Cozy out of her tote. Miranda wrapped the cashmere sweater around her as the flight attendant announced they were preparing for takeoff. Andrea returned and handed Miranda her drink. She stood for a moment in the aisle, as if contemplating what to do next.

"Andrea, we are taking off. You need to be seated," Miranda said, reaching and grabbing her wrist, softly tugging her into the seat next to her.

"Oh!" Andrea exclaimed as she plopped on the seat next to Miranda.

"Don't look so thrilled," Miranda said, "You can get up and sit elsewhere once we are in the air."

Andrea quickly turned towards Miranda. "What? I—I didn't want to sit here because I tend to get kind of…panicky…during takeoffs and landings. I was really hoping not to bother you."

"Bother me? Oh, Andrea, be serious." Miranda said, taking Andrea's hands in her own. "What is it that bothers you most?"

"Ascent and descent. I don't even like high roller coasters for that reason."

"Does anything help? Make it better?" Miranda asked.

"Not really. I've tried everything. At least we don't have any connecting flights. I'll be fine, really, but I am apologizing in advance if I scream."

Miranda smiled, thinking back to how Andrea was screaming her name just a few hours ago… "Well, what about distraction? Perhaps if we keep up conversation or something you can trick your mind?"

"That's kind of you to offer, but I'm not sure that would work," Andrea said. Just then, the plane began taxiing towards the runway. Miranda felt Andrea grip her hand tighter as the engines grew louder. "Oh goddd," Andrea murmured, closing her eyes tightly as she held her breath.

In a split second, Miranda leaned over and took Andrea's lips in her own, thrusting her tongue into Andrea's mouth as her left hand reached over and slid into her blouse, caressing her silky, firm breast.

Andrea moaned into her mouth as Miranda deepened the kiss, determined to distract the young woman until the plane stabilized. Needing to catch her breath, Miranda pulled away from the kiss only to begin licking and sucking at the nape of Andrea's neck, the soft, sensitive spot behind her ear, slowly dragging her tongue down Andrea's neck before she returned to Andrea's plump, soft lips. "You taste divine, darling," Miranda purred.

"Ohh, Miranda," she whimpered, arching into Miranda's touch.

Miranda felt the plane straighten. It always takes longer on international flights, she remembered, because they fly much higher. She softly kissed Andrea's lips a few times before pulling away from her companion.

"Miranda," Andrea sighed, leaning back into the seat. "My god, what was that for?"

Miranda smirked. "We're up in the air already, Andrea."

"What?" Andrea asked, peering over at the window. "Wow, I just—I didn't even notice."

"I told you distraction would work," Miranda added, matter-of-factly.

"I'm never flying without you again, you realize that, right?" Andrea said.

Miranda returned her smile, "I suppose we could arrange something…" she said. "Now, I actually would like to rest a bit on this flight." She paused before adding, "I hope you don't mind?"

"Oh, of course not. I mean, you do have the next two weeks to rest, but I understand," Andrea said.

"It's been years since I've taken such a long flight for pleasure, without bringing any work with me. I think I even brought the Book with me on my honeymoon with Stephen. Hmph," Miranda chuckled. "I guess that was a sign right there how I felt about him."

"Miranda, I—"

"What I was going to say," Miranda continued, ignoring Andrea's interruption, "is that I always used to take a few sedatives or sleeping pills during these long flights."

"Oh, I see," Andrea said. "Are they safe?"

"Yes, of course. I use them so rarely—I can't remember the last time I wasn't needed for eight hours straight," Miranda said as she dug through her purse for a small bottle. "Do you mind?" she asked Andrea as she unscrewed the cap on the bottle.

"No! Of course not. Is there anything else I can get you?"

"No, Andrea, please relax and enjoy yourself if you can. Oh," Miranda added, "And Andrea? If there is even the slightest bit of turbulence, please, wake me."

"Okay," Andrea said as Miranda swallowed two pills with her glass of sparkling water.

"Rest well, Andrea," Miranda said as she closed her eyes and curled up with her cashmere wrap.

Andrea looked around, debating what to do next. She hadn't considered packing any reading material in the few minutes she had to pack. Luckily, there were televisions built into the back of each seat. Not wanting to disturb Miranda, she returned to her seat across the aisle, pulled her earbuds out of her purse, and began watching a few films— "chick flicks" that had recently been released, but her schedule hadn't allowed her time to see them.

Three movies later, they were just over halfway to Seattle. Andrea took her headphones out and sipped on a Diet Coke as she gazed out the window, replaying the events of the past 48 hours in her mind. The flight attendant offered Andrea some dessert, chocolate pie, tiramisu, or some fresh fruit. Glancing over at Miranda, sleeping soundly across the aisle, Andrea asked for the chocolate pie for herself, and fruit for Miranda, but kept it covered until Miranda woke.

Andrea savored the rich chocolate concoction, knowing full well Miranda would never allow consumption of so many calories in one sitting. She stood, walking towards the front of the plane to dispose her trash in the bin. It felt good, stretching her legs. Even though she was in first class and had plenty of space, an airline seat could only be so comfortable. Slowly walking back to her seat, she paused to watch Miranda—she was so beautiful, and so vulnerable. Asleep, she looked so young, happy, and carefree. She knew, though, that once Miranda woke, she would resume her habit of carrying years of emotions around with her.

Suddenly, the plane jolted forward, sending Andrea flying into the open seat next to her. "Attention, please. This is the captain speaking. We have encountered a bit of turbulence due to some storm clouds, but we should be in the clear within thirty minutes. Please return to your seat and fasten your seat belt." Andrea's heart was racing. Thirty minutes? She quickly fastened her seat belt and reached out for the armrests, realizing she was sitting next to Miranda again, and that the armrest was lifted up to accommodate the way Miranda was laying on the seat, her legs curled up underneath her. The plane bounced again, and Andrea held her breath, waiting for it to balance.

Nearly sixty seconds later, Andrea took a few deep breaths. Miranda was still sleeping soundly, but Andrea worried that her seatbelt wasn't fastened. She leaned over and lifted Miranda's cashmere wrap, noticing one of the seatbelt straps dangling from the seat.

"Miranda," Andrea called as she gently rubbed her shoulder, trying to rouse her from her sleep.

"Mmm-hmm," Miranda replied, gently sticking her tongue out and smacking her lips a few times before pulling her wrap tighter around her neck.

Andrea leaned closer and softly drew her thumb across Miranda's lips. "Miranda, please," Andrea whispered in her ear, "your seatbelt needs to be fastened." Miranda whimpered, but did not move.

"I'm going to reach around and grab your seatbelt from underneath you, okay?"

Miranda did not reply, so Andrea loosened her own belt before reaching over to secure Miranda's. Andreas arm slid around Miranda's waist, her hand brushing her smooth, firm derriere as she searched for the other end of the seatbelt.

"Mmm," Miranda exhaled as Andrea dragged the metal buckle across her leg. Andrea adjusted the strap and secured Miranda to the seat.

Just then, the plane lurched downward again. Andrea had no time to react, but could only grip Miranda's hips to steady herself. "Ohhhh," Miranda moaned at Andrea's touch. Without opening her eyes, she reached her arm out around Andrea's shoulders. "Darling," she said, running her fingers through Andrea's brunette tresses. "Sleep…here," she said.

Andrea smiled and rested her head on Miranda's lap, inhaling the older woman's scent as she drifted off to sleep.

Several hours later, Andrea woke when the flight attendant softly nudged her shoulders, "Miss? We will be landing in thirty minutes. Can I bring you anything? Coffee? Water?"

Andrea unwrapped herself from Miranda's arms, "Can you bring a scalding hot black coffee? Oh, and do you have a toothbrush or mouthwash?"

"Of course. You will find toiletries on the shelves in the lavatory, and I will bring your coffee right away," the woman said.

Despite how peacefully Miranda was resting, Andrea knew she needed to wake her. She gently pulled Miranda's legs out from under her and placed her feet on the floor. Andrea leaned over and softly massaged Miranda's calf muscles and her feet, knowing they would be sore after the flight.

"Miranda?" Andrea called, "Miranda, wake up. We're in Seattle," she said, brushing the hair out of Miranda's eye.

Slowly, Miranda began to stir, stretching her neck and yawning as she opened her eyes.

"Hello," Andrea said as she sat back into her own seat.

Miranda licked her lips that were dry from the long flight. "Hi," she said shyly. "Was the flight okay for you?" She asked, as if suddenly remembering Andrea's fear.

"Yes," Andrea replied, "it was fine. The flight attendant is bringing your coffee, and there are some toiletries in the bathroom, so I'm going to freshen up, if you don't mind."

Miranda waved her hand, "Of course, go, go." Andrea slipped into the lavatory and Miranda continued to stretch out her muscles. She was surprised that she slept through the entire flight—and that her sleep was uninterrupted. Aside from the stiffness, she felt quite relaxed. While she waited for her coffee, she slipped her shoes back on and grabbed some moisturizer and lip balm from her purse, generously applying it to her face, lips, and hands.

When Andrea returned, her hair was styled in a ponytail, and she had rosy cheeks and lips. Miranda was just finishing her coffee. Andrea stepped aside to let Miranda by in the aisle, and when Miranda stepped into the bathroom, she gathered their empty cups and placed the trash in the bin.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now in our final descent to Seattle, WA. Local time is 4:08pm, and the current temperature is 53 degrees Fahrenheit. Please be seated and fasten your seatbelts. Thank you for flying with us."

Andrea sat where she was during takeoff and buckled her seatbelt. She hoped everything was in order when they arrived. A limousine was scheduled to pick up Andrea and Miranda at the airport and drive them to Alderbrook. Andrea had sent Emily a quick email before they left, asking that she have the cabin stocked with some of Miranda's essential items, and that she reveal the address of where Miranda was staying to absolutely no one. If anyone understood Miranda's strict privacy, it was Emily. But, Andrea thought, Emily would not be happy to know that Andrea would be spending two weeks on vacation with Miranda, in addition to Paris.

Andrea was startled from her daze when Miranda squeezed by her, slipping into her seat and buckling her seat belt. Most of Miranda's makeup had worn off, and she didn't bother repaying, instead opting for a tinted moisturizer and pale coral lipgloss.

"So," Andrea began, trying to break the silence, "did you rest well? You slept for at least ten hours straight."

"Mm-hmm," Miranda said, "It was quite exceptional." Miranda gazed deep into Andrea's eyes, trying to read the young woman's emotions. Miranda wanted nothing more than to touch Andrea's skin, taste her salty skin and lick those plump, glossy lips. But she didn't want to pressure Andrea, so she gazed into her eyes, hoping the young woman could read her thoughts.

Andrea met Miranda's gaze with a passion of her own. She wanted to hold every inch of the older woman, keep her tight and never let go. She longed to run her fingers through her silvery hair, press her lips to her porcelain white skin. But she, too did not want to pressure Miranda, so she held back.

"Miranda—"

"Andrea—" they both spoke at once.

"You first," Andrea said.

"Andrea—darling—I want you to know that I still care about you very much. I meant everything I said or otherwise implied yesterday, or two days ago, whatever. I know I was upset that first night, and I know I have a reputation for using people, but I want you to know that I could never use you. From the first day we met, when you strolled in for your interview in that hideous cerulean sweater and Doc Martens, I knew that you weren't like the rest, and I couldn't treat you so, no matter how tempting it was. So, please, I don't want to pressure you, but know this is real for me."

Andrea was speechless. Miranda's speech sucked the air out of her lungs. It was as if she could read Andrea's mind, know her fears and hesitations. Andrea leaned over and hugged Miranda tightly, kissing her softly on the cheek before turning in her arms where they both comfortably sat. "Miranda, I believe you. You didn't need to reassure me, but thank you just the same. I care about you…very much…too."

Miranda tightened her arm around Andrea's shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. "I want you so badly," she whispered into Andrea's hair.

Her words were barely audible, but Andrea's ears sensed the tone of her voice. She wrapped her arm more tightly around Miranda's waist and whispered, "Me too," before closing her eyes and bracing for landing.

The next hour was a blur as Miranda and Andrea disembarked, waited in line at customs, obtained their checked luggage, and found their waiting driver and limo.

Andrea was in awe as she watched Miranda, no sunglasses and very little makeup, maneuver her way through a crowd carrying a tote and her purse, just like all the other soccer moms in the airport. Andrea showed Miranda how to retrieve one's luggage off the carousel, and laughed as Miranda hopelessly tried to wrangle her suitcase up and over the ledge. Eventually, a kind young boy assisted Miranda, which confused her even more. Would a perfect stranger actually do that without expecting something in return? What was she supposed to do, tip him? Seeing Miranda's confusion, Andrea intervened and thanked the young kid, gently tugging Miranda towards the exit.

Their limousine driver, Jason, was very kind. He pulled Andrea aside and told her he had been in touch with an Emily in New York, and that everything was arranged. She nodded and slipped into the limo. Once Jason reached the driver's seat, he slid the privacy screen down halfway to let Andrea & Miranda know they could help themselves to a beverage or snack, and that they would be at Alderbrook in 2-3 hours. Sliding the screen back up, he pulled out onto the road.

"Ohh!" Miranda sighed audibly once they began driving. "Flying is exhausting!"

Andrea chuckled, "Yes, Miranda, that is the general consensus. I really think it's dealing with all the people that makes it so tiring. But wait—you slept the entire flight, why are you so exhausted?"

"Andrea, I'm old. I tire easily. Let me be," she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Okay, okay. I actually wouldn't mind taking a nap, if you don't need anything right now?" Andrea asked.

"A nap," Miranda said, pausing to yawn, "sounds perfect. May I join you?"

"Of course, you don't have to ask, Miranda."

Miranda blushed as she stared at her hands now in her lap. "You know, as comfortable as I am in Paris, being back in the States is always a bit of a reality shock," Miranda began. Stephen is no longer across the pond, but is only a few states away."

Andrea waited for Miranda to continue, and when she didn't, Andrea reached over and took her hands, drawing her toward the long, wide leather seat, which would provide plenty of room for both of them to sleep comfortably. "Miranda, no one except Emily and I know where you are. I removed the battery from your cell phone and Emily will put any important calls through to me. This doesn't have to be reality, not yet anyway."

Miranda smiled and curled up next to Andrea on the seat. Andrea pressed her lips to Miranda's forehead and closed her eyes for the rest of the ride.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was watching The Hours, and thought Clarissa's breakdown in the kitchen would fit perfectly...of course, I don't own any of these characters, and some of the dialogue here is based on The Hours (Stephen Daldry / Michael Cunningham).

When they arrived at Alderbrook, Jason carried their bags into the cottage for them. He handed Andrea a separate bag full of items Emily had asked him to pick up to make Miranda feel more at home. Andrea smiled when she saw some candles, Miranda's favorite wine, and a list of phone numbers, including the nearest Smith & Wollensky.

"Ma'am," Jason said as he handed Andrea his card, "I am at your disposal for the next fourteen days, so please do not hesitate to call should you or your companion need transportation, or need me to pickup something from town."

Andrea smiled and thanked him as she took his card and the bag into the house.

The cottage was beautiful, better than Andrea expected. Though it was a small place, maybe 2,000 square feet, the open floor plan design created a giant living/dining/kitchen/foyer space, with the master bedroom and en suite to the left off the foyer and the guest bedroom and bath to the right, off the living room. Miranda was standing in front of the patio doors in the dining room area. They were gorgeous french doors, overlooking a generously sized deck that looked out to the water. She wasn't sure which body of water this was, or if it was even natural, but it was peaceful. Several other cottages and cabins were scattered along the water's edge, but their distance and the forest between them provided an additional feeling of solitude.

Andrea picked up her bags and carried them into the guest bedroom. It was moderately sized, a queen-sized bed and a small desk against the window. The bathroom had a large vanity and a generous walk-in shower. Despite the size of the cottage, it was clear the resort spared no expense in furnishings or upkeep. It was luxurious and immaculate, and she knew Miranda would be pleased.

When she returned to the main room, Miranda had already stepped out onto the deck. Andrea picked up Miranda's bags and moved them into the master bedroom, which was nearly the size of Miranda's at home. There was a large flat-screen TV mounted on the side wall, and the bed faced floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing a view of the lake. Andrea took Miranda's smaller bag into the bathroom and was also pleasantly surprised to see a large claw-foot tub, plus a vanity with two sinks and a walk-in shower with a bench and jets built-in to the side walls.

Patting herself on the back, she headed towards the kitchen and pulled the Starbucks coffee out of the bag Jason had sent. The cottage was furnished with a beautiful, stainless steel Breville coffee machine that had a million settings. To Andrea, it looked as if it also could be used for frothing milk and espresso, but she would definitely need to read the manual before she could attempt that. A quick glance inside the refrigerator confirmed that the resort had stocked several ready-to-bake dinners as Andrea requested.

She decided to venture out to join Miranda on the deck and see if Miranda would like some coffee or wine or if she was hungry. "Hey," Andrea said, wrapping her arms tightly across her chest as she stood next to Miranda. "It's chilly out here."

"Brisk, Andrea." Miranda said, leaning forward to look at the shore.

"Would you like something? Coffee or perhaps a glass of wine? Or, if you're hungry, I can make something."

Miranda turned to look at Andrea. "No, thank you. I'd just like to stay out here a moment longer, then I can make coffee."

"Okay," Andrea said as she turned around and headed back into the house. Andrea was still a little unsure of how things would progress between Miranda and herself, and knowing even some of what Miranda was dealing with at the moment, she tried to give the woman space when she asked. In the house, Andrea charged her phone and sat on the couch, pulling up her laptop to read some blogs or fanfic until Miranda returned. She was so lost in a Law & Order SVU fic, she didn't even notice Miranda come in until she heard someone fiddling with the coffee pot. She closed the lid of her laptop and set it on the coffee table before heading into the kitchen. Miranda was focused as she loaded the coffee beans into the machine, so Andrea didn't want to interrupt her. Leaning against the opposite side of the island, she said, "Hi there. Can I help with anything?"

"No, Andrea. I am perfectly capable of brewing a cup of coffee!" Miranda shouted as her finger punched the "start" button on the machine.

"I didn't say you weren't, Miranda. I was thinking along the lines of food...making dinner, you know."

"Oh," Miranda said, still staring at the coffee pot whose red light was furiously flashing in tandem to the electronic beeping sound. Miranda growled at the machine and once again opened and closed the lid and pressed a few buttons before hitting "start." This time, the machine let out a shrill whistle-like noise before coughing out a plume of smoke and powering down. "Why is everything wrong?" Miranda asked, her hands gripping the edge of the counter as she pushed herself away from the coffee disaster.

Andrea stood and took a few steps towards Miranda, but Miranda held out her hand, keeping Andrea at a distance. "Miranda? What's going on? It's only coffee," Andrea said, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's only coffee? You say that as if it is so trivial. As if what I am doing is trivial." She paused for a moment before continuing, turning away from the coffee maker to face Andrea.

"Is everything alright, Miranda?" Andrea asked quietly.

"Yes, sure, it's just, stress, I don't know," Miranda said as she backed herself into the corner and again clung to the edges of the counter. "Oh god! I—I just," she said, gasping, "Jesus! I don't know what's happening to me," she whispered as she wrapped her right arm around her waist and bent over, trying to keep from hyperventilating. She slid down the cabinet into a squatting position and tears began streaming from her eyes as her breath grew short. "I feel...like I'm unraveling," she said.

"Do you want me to leave? Would that be better?" Andrea asked, sincerely trying to help the other woman in some way, thinking that perhaps giving her space would remedy her mood.

"No, no," Miranda said, "don't do that, just, explain to me why this is happening."

Andrea took a few steps closer, but was halted by Miranda's hand. "No! Stop, don't…don't touch me. It's better if you don't," she said as she slid further down to sit on the floor.

Andrea stopped in the middle of the kitchen afraid to step closer or step further away. Miranda took three heaving, deep breaths.

"It's…it's just too  _much_ ," she said, waving her arms. "Not being able to make my own coffee. Paris. The divorce papers. The tabloids. My girls. And you, here, at my side, in this wonderfully secluded resort." She paused and took another deep breath, sitting up higher to breathe more air into her lungs. "It's just, I've been running this magazine for years. I've tried to take care of my family and attend to my husband and children, but I had a job to do. And now, Stephen waltzes in with divorce papers and a juicy story for the press, and here I am." Again, Miranda paused to take several deep breaths. "One night," she said, "just hours after I received the papers, and after I had been doing a lot of crying and thinking, I was sitting in your room, on your bed, hanging my head. You squatted down and brushed your hand along my leg. 'You're never truly alone, Miranda,' you said to me. That's when I knew."

"Knew what?" Andrea whispered.

"I knew that I was stuck….that's all. And here we are now," she said, "oh it doesn't matter…" she trailed off.

"The day of my 'makeover,'" Andrea said, "I was so conflicted. I felt so unbelievably free for the first time in my life. I felt desirable, like anyone in the world could want me…even you. I felt so powerful."

Miranda did not respond. After several minutes, Miranda took a deep breath and stood, smoothing out her clothing. "Well," she began, "I suppose we should see if there is another source of coffee around this place."

Andrea nodded, "I will phone for a replacement. Until then, I think we will need to settle for water or wine."

"Mmm, yes," Miranda said. "I think I need to lie down for a bit," she said as she walked past Andrea and into the master bedroom.

Andrea quickly dialed the woman from the resort she spoke with on the phone, and she assured her that someone would deliver a new coffee maker within an hour. It had only been a few minutes, but Andrea missed Miranda, missed being in the woman's presence. She wandered towards the bedroom. Miranda left the door open, and Andrea leaned against the doorframe, just watching the woman who totally changed her life.

Miranda lay on her back on the bed, her eyes closed. "Andrea," she called out quietly, "You don't have to stand there, come here." She patted her hand on the mattress beside her.

Silently, Andrea toed off her shoes and climbed onto the bed, laying on her back, a few inches away from Miranda. Miranda reached over and took Andrea's hand.

"I used to think I was happy," Miranda said as she continued to hold Andrea's hand. "But as my daughters grew older, I felt as if my personal life was growing increasingly…well,  _silly_. When I was at  _Runway,_ I felt alive. I know it sounds absurd, but even spending time with my husband or being a mother, it all felt silly."

"What changed?" Andrea softly asked.

"You," Miranda said as she squeezed Andrea's hand. "You're the only other human being," she paused as she took a deep breath. "I feel alive around you, wherever I am. I didn't realize it until a few nights ago. You've proven to me that I can live without  _Runway_ , and that the magazine is truly secondary to my own life."

"Oh, Miranda," Andrea said overwhelmed by what Miranda was implying.

"But Andrea, I'm terrified. For the first time in my life, I  _want_ to live my life. For the first time in my life, I need someone else. My happiness truly depends on another's."

"Miranda, you know that I—"

"No, wait," Miranda said, interrupting. "You have no obligation to me, aside from your employment, for which I have rather unprofessionally provided you a reason for leaving. I want you to stay with me, but you need to  _want_  to stay with me." She paused for a few minutes and held her breath before continuing. "I know you're young and you have your entire life ahead of you, and I will understand, really, but I cannot live with myself if I let this chance at happiness—at  _love_ —pass by."

Andrea was still laying on her back, the fingers on her left hand intertwined with Miranda's right. Tears silently streamed down her face as she processed what Miranda was saying. Yes, it was a bit out of the ordinary, but it could be so  _extraordinary_  if she allowed it.

Miranda softly squeezed Andrea's hand and pulled her fingers away as she sat up and dangled her legs over the side of the bed. "Well," Miranda said, "I should see about something for dinner."

"Wait—" Andrea said, suddenly jumping up and kneeling behind Miranda on the bed. "You didn't let me respond."

"I thought—"

"No," Andrea interrupted, placing her hands on Miranda's shoulders. "Whatever you thought, you thought wrong." Andrea leaned in and pressed her lips softly to Miranda's neck. "I'm here," she said between kisses. "I'm not going anywhere. I will never hurt you, Miranda."

Miranda moaned and turned around, taking Andrea's face in her hands. "Really, darling?" Miranda asked as shock and passion flittered across her eyes. "You're not just saying this because I'm some middle-aged pathetic woman?"

Andrea laughed and pulled Miranda closer, pressing her forehead to Miranda's. "No. I'm here because I love you," Andrea said as her lips consumed Miranda's. "And," she added, looking into her eyes, "you're  _my_  middle-aged woman."

"Oh, god," Miranda said as a smile crept across her face. "If you kiss me again, I'll pretend you didn't say that," she said, the corner of her lip curling upward.

Andrea straddled Miranda's body and pushed her back onto the bed. Miranda's giggles turned to moans as Andrea's hands ran up and down her body, igniting her skin with her soft touch.


	6. Chapter 6

Miranda woke and held her breath as she took in her surroundings. It was dark outside, and there were no lights on. She was laying askew on the bed, and even though there was only a light blanket covering her. Dragging her hand across her stomach, she realized she was not wearing any clothing, and neither was the young brunette next to her. Miranda slowly sat up and reached over to Andrea, her hand hovering over the younger woman's shoulder. She softly touched her shoulder, and Andrea jumped.

"Oh! Uh, what's wrong?!" she said as she turned over.

"Shh, no, nothing is wrong," Miranda purred. "I just had to make sure you were real—that I wasn't dreaming."

Andrea picked up Miranda's hand and turned it over, softly pressing her lips to her palm. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Andrea said.

"Yes," Miranda said. "And maybe you should make the coffee this time?"

Andrea smiled and kissed Miranda's hand once again. "I will put something in for dinner and make some coffee while you shower. Once it's in the oven, I'll quickly shower myself."

Miranda nodded and watched as Andrea slipped her panties and tank on, then crept out of the room. While she and Miranda were otherwise occupied, someone from the resort staff had delivered a new coffee maker on the foyer floor, just inside the door. Andrea smiled and carried the new machine into the kitchen. While she was heating some chicken breasts and making coffee in the new machine, she heard the shower water running, and what sounded like Miranda's tears.

Andrea quickly went to the guest room to retrieve some clean clothes and her own robe, then she returned to the master bedroom. Setting her items on the dresser, she cracked the door open and knocked. "Miranda? Is everything okay?"

"Andrea?" Miranda called as she sniffled. "What—No, I'm fine. I'll be out shortly."

"Do you mind?" Andrea asked as she stepped into the steamy bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Before Miranda could respond, Andrea was standing behind her in the shower, her arms wrapped tightly around the older woman.

"Andrea, you don't have to—" Miranda began.

"I want to. Just relax," she said. Andrea pressed her lips to Miranda's collarbone as her right hand slid down across her abdomen, plunging into her wet folds.

Miranda gasped, drawing in a sharp intake of air. "Ho—ho—ho—ho—ohh—Andreeea!" she cried out as she pressed her hand against the marble wall, her knees growing weak. Andrea continued her ministrations as she slid down Miranda's body, crouching on the shower floor at Miranda's feet.

The hot water streamed down their bodies. Miranda pressed both hands against the wall, her legs spreading to accommodate Andrea's body between her legs. Her hair was matted against her face, her eyes shut, her lips parted, forming an 'O'. She was so aroused, it did not take long for her orgasm to crash through her body. Andrea stood, holding Miranda's body close as the waves coursed through her muscles.

Andrea reached for the washcloth and dispensed body wash onto it, her left arm still wrapped around Miranda's body. She took the cloth and covered Miranda's soft skin in the rich, luxurious lather, taking special care to use both shampoo and conditioner on her soft hair. Andrea again took the washcloth again and quickly cleaned herself. When she reached for the shampoo, Miranda reached up and took her by the wrist, "Can I?" she asked, pouring the shampoo into her hand. Andrea smiled and turned around as Miranda lathered her brunette tresses, her fingers massaging Andrea's scalp. When she finished shampooing, conditioning, and rinsing her hair, she reached around Andrea and turned off the water.

"Thank you, Andrea," she said, as she wrapped her arms around the young woman and kissed her tenderly on her plump, wet lips. Andrea smiled and reached for the towels, handing one to Miranda first, and then herself. Miranda dried herself and accepted the robe Andrea handed her. Andrea stepped out into Miranda's bedroom and put her robe on.

"Ohhh, shit!" she said, running to the kitchen to pull the chicken from the oven.

Miranda came running after her. "What's wrong?"

"I thought our dinner may have been burned, but it still looks edible. I'll make a quick marsala sauce or something, is that okay?"

Miranda smiled, "Andrea, I am so hungry, I will eat just about anything. Is there ranch dressing?"

"Um, yes, but—"

"Caroline and Cassidy put ranch dressing on everything. It's…not terrible," she said.

"Okay, then dinner is served." Andrea put the chicken onto two plates, along with some overly-steamed green beans and a cup of hot coffee. It must have looked funny, she thought, Miranda Priestly eating dinner in a bathrobe, without makeup, her hair still dripping wet.

They ate mostly in silence. When they finished, Miranda stepped away to dress and dry her hair. It was nearly midnight. Andrea cleaned up the kitchen and started a fire in the fireplace before heading back into Miranda's bedroom to put her pajamas on. "Miranda, I started a fire in the living room if you're interested," she said.

"That sounds just fine," she replied. "Actually, I would really just like to lay low tonight. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all, of course not. I—I have some emails I can take care of on my laptop in the guest room."

Miranda walked over to Andrea, softly placing her hand on the small of her back. "Don't be ridiculous. I was thinking we could just watch television or something. I meant that I just didn't feel up to any deep conversation or all-consuming physical activity. Really, Andrea."

Andrea shrugged and let Miranda lead her out of the room and to the couch. Miranda poured two glasses of water in the kitchen and turned out the lights. Andrea already had the remote and was looking through the channels. "What do you want to watch?" she asked.

"Anything that's fictional. No news, no reality, please," Miranda said, placing the two glasses of water on the coffee table.

"A crime drama, or a classic film?"

"Not in the mood for dead bodies tonight. Which movie is on?"

"There's  _Meet Me In St Louis_ and  _The Philadelphia Story_ …"

"Hmm," Miranda said, "Judy Garland and Mary Astor, or Katharine Hepburn, Cary Grant, and James Stewart…Let's go with 1940."

"Uhh…that means?"

"Really, Andrea? Must I spell everything out for you?" Miranda teased, a grin on her face.

"Okay, okay… so that's  _The Philadelphia Story_. Here, it just started," Andrea said as she switched the channel and tossed the remote to the side. Miranda lifted her feet up to rest on the edge of the coffee table and leaned back into the couch, sighing contentedly. Andrea mirrored Miranda's position, keeping about twelve inches between them.

"You know," Andrea began, "Oh—wait—do you mind if we talk a little during the movie?"

Miranda turned her head to face Andrea and raised her eyebrows.

"Uh," Andrea continued, "A lot of people prefer silence during a movie…I just thought—"

"Andrea, I have seen this film hundreds of times. I do not mind conversation, provided you eventually get to the point here," Miranda said.

"Oh, okay. I, um was just going to say how much I love the names in this movie. They're so classic: Tracy Samantha Lord and C.K. Dexter Haven," Andrea said.

"Mmm," Miranda said, nodding in agreement. "When I was a little girl, I remember watching this film and thinking how fabulous it would be to have reporters and photographers following me—to be in the spotlight of the society pages." Miranda laughed and shook her head. "And now, look at me, hiding from the world at some unknown resort in the state of Washington."

"Don't think like that, Miranda. You're not hiding. You told your story. You're taking a vacation."

"Yes, well," Miranda said, pulling the small couch throw blanket over herself. "How about Kate's dress? It really is mesmerizing. The gold metallic, high shoulders. I think we'll do a spread next month on Cleopatra-inspired fashion. We can use the Marc Jacobs gladiator sandals and the McQueen hammered gold collection. Get Nigel on the—"

"Miranda," Andrea warned.

"—phone…oh, right." Miranda pulled the blanket tighter around her.

"Tomorrow morning, I'll send Nigel and Emily an email with the details and have them begin pulling samples." Andrea looked around, "Is there another blanket?"

"No, I don't think so," Miranda said. "Here," she said, lifting up the edge of the blanket and offering half to Andrea.

"Oh, no, that's okay. I'll grab one from the bedroom."

"Andrea do not be ridiculous. Get over here."

Andrea smiled and scooted over on the couch, closer to Miranda and underneath the blanket. Inches separated their bodies, and Andrea was already warming up from Miranda's body heat.

Miranda tried to focus on the rest of the movie, but with Andrea sitting so close, she was unable to quench the tingling growing deep within.  _I need her_ , Miranda thought. Recalling how she earlier said she wanted to lay low, she struggled to fight the urge to touch the young woman next to her. Miranda inhaled deeply, biting her lower lip as she closed the gap between Andrea and herself.

"Miranda?"

"Shh, I just need to feel you," Miranda whispered before laying her head on Andrea's shoulder.

Andrea reached under the blanket and took her hand. "Miranda, I—"

"Shh," Miranda repeated, pressing her index finger to Andrea's lips. "We can talk tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. Right now, I just want to sit."

Andrea nodded. A short while later, both women were asleep on the couch. The fire had gone out since no one replaced the log, and it was growing colder in the room. Andrea woke to Miranda's whimpers. The older woman curled up closer to Andrea, wrapping her arm around Andrea's shoulders.

"Miranda, wake up, let's go to bed," Andrea whispered as she stretched her legs and tried to sit up on the couch.

"Mhm, why?" Miranda whimpered, her eyes still shut. "Just go back to sleep," she said.

"No, Miranda, come on, you have to go to bed," Andrea said as she pulled her up off the couch and walked her to the bedroom. Miranda crawled onto the bed, still half asleep. Andrea quickly returned to the living room to ensure the fireplace doors were closed, then grabbed the comforter from the guest bedroom and went to join Miranda, who was sound asleep on top of her bed. Carefully covering her, Andrea crawled onto the other side of the bed, respecting Miranda's space, but not wanting Miranda to wake up alone. When she paused to watch Miranda sleep, she couldn't think back to a time when she didn't love Miranda. Sure, she was a boss-from-hell when Andrea first started, but even looking back, Andrea had always wanted to be closer to her. She was always interested in something more.  _Funny how quickly things change_ , Andrea thought as she drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, the sun was shining brightly into the bedroom. Miranda woke and smiled when she saw Andrea laying on the other side of the bed. Propping herself up on her elbow, she watched Andrea sleep. Andrea's lips were curled up in a smile. "Andrea?" Miranda whispered softly, checking to see if the girl was awake.  _She smiles in her sleep_ , Miranda thought.  _How—why—does this woman love me?_ she thought as she leaned over and softly pressed her lips to Andrea's cheek. The young woman didn't wake, so Miranda carefully moved closer, resting her head on the pillow next to Andrea's, falling back to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Andrea and Miranda spent the rest of their time at the cottage doing much of the same. On most nights, they chose to relax by the fireplace, Andrea introducing Miranda to her favorite crime dramas like SVU and NCIS, while Miranda relished in the opportunity to watch some classic films from the 40's and 50's that she hadn't seen since she was a child. Andrea was no longer afraid to touch Miranda, and likewise, Miranda stopped tensing upon the other woman's touch. In fact, she found herself craving that touch, and grew increasingly anxious for their departure from the secluded resort.

They spent their afternoons mostly in each other's company. Miranda enjoyed lounging on the porch, just staring out at the water, sometimes reading a newspaper. Andrea always joined her on the deck, often reading her novel or writing in her journal. Very few words were exchanged, as both women enjoyed the peaceful solitude with her companion. For once in her life, Miranda was truly relaxed: she woke without the stress of the magazine, and fell asleep in the arms of someone who genuinely cared about her—someone who loved her.

Love, Miranda thought. That word had been echoing throughout her body for days. Andrea used it so easily, so freely. On the first day they arrived, Andrea had told her she loved her, why was it so difficult for Miranda to accept? Fear, she thought, silently nodding her head. Fear that the young woman tosses the word about as if it were nothing. Sure, Andrea cares for her, and there's no denying that they pleasure each other quite well, but love goes beyond need, beyond desire, beyond caring about someone. Love was an inexplicable need, a force, driving you to another, keeping you in her company, knitting your lives together forever. That was when she realized what it really was she feared: she loved Andrea.

Miranda closed herself off for the rest of the day. Andrea could tell something was bothering her, but knew her well enough by now to know Miranda needed some time to herself. Andrea made a few calls from the guest room, then returned to Miranda's bedroom, where she was curled in a ball on her bed.

Andrea knocked softly before entering the room. She didn't want to suffocate Miranda, so she stayed near the doorway, leaning against the dresser. "Miranda, you have a massage scheduled at the spa in thirty minutes. And after that, they have time for a mani/pedi if you're interested."

Miranda turned and sat indian-style on the bed. "I don't recall scheduling that," she said. Andrea could tell Miranda's mind was elsewhere.

"Well, you didn't. But, we're at a resort and spa, and those services are included, and, well, I just thought you might enjoy it."

Miranda looked up and locked eyes with Andrea, "Will you be there, too?"

"Actually, I was hoping to take a run along the lake trail," Andrea said.

"So you're trying to get rid of me?" Miranda said with a straight look on her face.

"No!" Andrea quickly answered, rushing to sit on the bed next to Miranda. She took Miranda's hands in her own, calmly rubbing her fingers across her knuckles. "They only had one opening, Miranda, and, well I scheduled two mani/pedis for us, if that is okay." Andrea was concerned that what she intended as a nice gesture was upsetting Miranda.

"I'm sorry, darling," Miranda said, squeezing her hands. "I'm just a little out of sorts today. A massage will be absolutely wonderful," she said, smiling brightly. "And I look forward to seeing you afterwards."

Andrea smiled in return. "I'm going to go change into warmer clothes for my run. Would you like to walk to the spa together?" she asked.

"Well, it's out of your way, isn't it?" Miranda asked. Andrea shrugged, and Miranda continued, "That is absurd, I will go myself. I don't want you out in this cold any longer than necessary."

Andrea nodded and stood, walking towards the door. She stopped and turned around, striding back over to Miranda and reaching her hand behind her neck, drawing her in for a quick kiss before leaving to change into running attire. When Andrea was ready for her run, Miranda had already left, leaving a note on the kitchen counter for her: Don't want to be late. See you soon! xo M

Andrea smiled and headed out the door. Running was a way for her to clear her mind. They still had five days left at the cottage, not including today. It was December 11, and December was turning out to be a fantastic month. She could hardly believe she was sleeping in the same bed as the beautiful Miranda Priestly. She smiled as she thought of their newfound intimacy. They had made love in nearly every room of the cottage—sometimes slow and sensual, other times hot and desperate. Miranda's tears grew more and more infrequent, though Andrea knew she was still concerned about her daughters, about Runway.

She returned to the cottage, showering and changing before heading to the spa. As she walked down the path, she wondered, for the first time since arriving in Washington, what would happen when they return to New York. It didn't seem like Miranda was ready to come out and make the relationship public, but everything was incredibly complicated because Andrea was still employed by Miranda. She feared it would be too much for Miranda to handle, and Miranda would give up. Miranda had still yet to return those three words which Andrea had so willingly offered last week.

She arrived as Miranda was finishing her massage. "Hey," she said.

"Hey to you," Miranda replied with a smile. Miranda was so relaxed, she looked like she was drunk.

"How was the massage?" Andrea asked as they climbed into their pedicure chairs.

"Delightful," she said, "Thank you, Andrea."

Miranda selected their polish colors, Dior Vernis of course. Miranda took Red Royalty for herself, selecting the darker Rouge Garçonne for Andrea to compliment her brunette tresses. Miranda did not speak much, but had a hint of a smile across her face. During her massage, she had the opportunity think and to figure out how she would deal with her feelings for Andrea. Having a plan reassured her and gave her some of her confidence back.

That night, Miranda was exhausted and fell asleep on the couch just minutes after Andrea turned on the television. Andrea flipped through the channels, settling on Meet Me In St Louis, which they never did watch the other day. She curled up on the other end of the couch and tucked her feet under Miranda's blanket, falling asleep herself. At some point in the night, Miranda had changed positions, lying on her back, her legs stretched out straight in front of her. It was a large couch, but not that large. Andrea woke in the morning, Miranda's foot moving back and forth between her legs. Andrea inhaled sharply as her eyes shot open and she tried to stifle a moan. Miranda was asleep, but must have been dreaming, given the way her body was wriggling on the couch. Andrea did not want to wake the other woman, but her foot was pressing harder and harder against the soft fabric covering Andrea's center. Her hips began bucking involuntarily off the couch as her arousal grew. Miranda woke when Andrea's moaning grew louder.

"Ooh, Miranda! Yes!—yes!—oh!—oh!—oooooh!" she cried, her body shaking as her orgasm overcame her.

Miranda, fully awake at this point, slowly drew her foot away from Andrea. How embarrassing, she thought. Attempting to avoid a conversation, she quietly slipped off the couch and stepped into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee (which Andrea had so kindly taught her how to do after that first day).

She was standing in the kitchen, her hands on the counter edge as she stared down at her empty coffee cup. Slender arms quickly wrapped themselves around her waist as Andrea peppered her sleek neck with kisses from behind. "What were you dreaming about?" Andrea purred into her ear as she softly licked her earlobe.

"Mmhm, good morning, Andrea," she said, her voice deep and throaty. "I, uh, I don't remember what I was dreaming about." She blushed and turned her head to the side, away from Andrea.

"Whatever it was, I liked it," Andrea said, turning Miranda around in her arms and reaching her hand up to cup Miranda's cheek. "I really liked it," she said, her lips less than an inch from Miranda's.

"Mmmh, yes, it appears you did," she said. "I made some coffee—would you like a cup?"

"Later," Andrea said. Her eyes were dark and hooded, desire pouring from her pupils. She swiftly wrapped her arm around Miranda's waist and lifted her onto the counter as she began to untie the drawstring on the woman's pants. "I need my breakfast, first," Andrea said with a wink as she buried her face in Miranda's cleavage. She slipped her hand down Miranda's pants, pushing aside the patch of fabric and dipping her finger into Miranda's slick folds.

"Ohh god!" Miranda cried, arching her back and pressing her head against the cabinet. Andrea continued thrusting two fingers inside roughly, gasping at how tightly Miranda's muscles involuntarily clenched around them. Miranda is panting now, her hands reaching for something to hold on to. Andrea pulls her fingers out and slides her tongue up and down as she moans in pleasure. Miranda grabs Andrea's wrist and pulls her fingers to her own mouth, sucking and lapping at her own juices that dripped into the younger girl's palm. Miranda moaned into Andrea's hand, feeling her muscles clenching at her core. Andrea pulled her hand back, moving the empty coffee mug aside and guiding Miranda to lay on her back on the counter. Andrea climbed onto the counter rather clumsily and straddled Miranda, slipping her pants and underwear off, tossing them somewhere on the floor. Andrea resumed her ministrations on Miranda's center, now pressing three fingers inside.

Miranda writhed underneath her touch, arching her back and bucking her hips as she frantically reached for something to grab onto. Sensing Miranda's growing arousal, Andrea slipped her hand under Miranda's shirt, pinching and tugging at the older woman's pert nipples. "Jesus! Andrea!" Miranda cried.

"Is there something you want, Miranda?" Andrea purred, her hot breath sending a shiver down Miranda's spine. Miranda grunted in reply. "What was that? I didn't hear you, Miranda."

"Yess! Fuck, yes," she panted.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," Andrea said as she trailed her tongue from Miranda's ear, down her jawline, her neck, her chest. Miranda's hips bucked again and again as she strained to crush her clitoris against Andrea' palm or arm or anything.

"Make me come," she said as she twisted her hand in Andrea's hair, nudging her further down her body.

Andrea followed Miranda's lead and sucked on her bright pink nub as she continued pumping her fingers in and out. She brought Miranda to the edge over and over, pulling away at just the right time.

"Fucking tease!" Miranda cried. "Please, let me come!" she wailed. Andrea saw tears in her eyes. She gently lapped at Miranda's juices and pressed her thumb firmly against Miranda's clitoris. Her body stiffened and Andrea felt her muscles contracting over and over. Andrea lifted up her own nightdress and straddled Miranda, grinding her core against Miranda's. She was so close. She reached up and grazed her nipple as her own orgasm shattered through her and she collapsed on top of Miranda.

"Darling," Miranda said after several minutes, "I've never come so hard in my entire life. My body feels like jelly…I, I don't think I can stand."

Andrea giggled into Miranda's neck. "Don't be silly," she said, softly kissing Miranda's forehead before she slithered down her body and off the counter. Andrea reached her hands out and helped Miranda to sit up.

Miranda sat on the counter for a few moments, trying to gather her bearings before standing. "Come here," she said, pulling Andrea towards her. She pressed her lips to Andrea's, moaning as she tasted herself. She slowly pulled away, resting her forehead against Andrea's as they caught their breath. "I think I need a shower," she said as she put her hand on the counter, about to hop off. "Wh—what is this?" she asked, looking at the sticky fluid on her hand. "Did we knock something over?"

"Um, that's your, um," Andrea blushed, "you were really wet, Miranda."

"Oh, lord," Miranda said as blush crept across her face and neck, turning her chest a bright splotchy shade of red. Andrea held her hand out to help Miranda down, and she followed her into the shower.

It was already December 17. Their bags were packed and waiting in the foyer for Jason to pick them up and return them to the airport. Andrea was standing on the deck, staring out at the water. Miranda gazed on their surroundings—memorizing everything about this place, and stamping their vacation permanently in her memory. She knew she would need to talk to Andrea soon. It wasn't fair to keep her waiting—she was so patient and kind.

They made the long ride to the airport in relative silence. Andrea made a brief call to confirm their arrival with Roy, and sent a few emails out to ensure Miranda's schedule was set for the next eight days. There was just one week until Christmas, and there was no doubt that Miranda would be spending her time catching up on Runway items. She was scheduled to have the week between Christmas and New Year's off to spend with her girls, but Andrea knows she hasn't spoken to them in weeks, and, well, she was concerned. One of the emails she sent was to James, the father of Miranda's children.  
Hello James,  
We've never met, but I am Miranda's assistant, the one who got Harry Potter, as I'm so fondly remembered by your daughters. Miranda and I are about to return to New York, and although she doesn't speak to me about it, I know she is deeply upset at the girls' decision to stay with you. I cannot begin to imagine the pressure the girls are under, especially after the divorce was made public, but you must know that her daughters are her life. I do not doubt that she would have returned to New York immediately if Caroline and Cassidy would have been waiting for her. Like I said, she has been silent on the issue, but I can see how deeply affected she is by this. Losing Stephen pales in comparison to losing her daughters—you must know that. She had time off scheduled from Dec 24 through January 1, and she was planning to spend it with the girls. You know better than anyone that once she returns and slips back into Runway-mode, she won't allow herself to fret over what to do with that time, and she will just work through the holidays. Please consider speaking with the girls to see if they might spend the holidays with Miranda. No need for permanent decisions—just the week. The girls are off school anyway….please consider it. I don't think Miranda will survive alone. Believe me, she's changed.   
Please think about it. Send my best to C&C.  
-Andrea

Andrea knew what she was doing was risky, but she was very concerned about Miranda. Sure, the past two weeks she spent with Miranda the woman were amazing, but she was fairly certain that once Miranda Priestly, Editor-in-Chief returned to her domain, it would be one of the worst weeks in the history of Runway.

Jason dropped them off at the airport, and Andrea and Miranda found their way to the VIP lounge to wait for their flight. Miranda seemed a bit nervous, constantly playing with her hair, tapping her feet, and checking her phone for messages. Andrea sent Miranda a quick text: What's wrong? xx A

Miranda jumped at the vibration of her phone, almost tossing it out of her hand. She quickly clicked to the messages, and sighed when she read the note from Andrea. She turned and glared at Andrea. "Miranda, have you heard from the girls since Paris?"

Miranda shook her head and looked down at the phone in her lap. Andrea wrapped her arm around Miranda's shoulders. "Give them time. They love you. They probably just needed some time to process everything."

"Like I did?" Miranda asked.

"Yeah, kind of like you did."

"I hope you're right, Andrea."

Just then, their flight was called and they were ushered into their seats. This flight was more crowded, so Andrea and Miranda took adjoining seats. As the other passengers made their way onto the plane, Miranda reached into her bag for her medication.

"Miranda?" Andrea asked. "Will you stay awake with me? It's a much shorter flight."

Miranda nodded and put her bag back under the seat. Miranda asked the flight attendant for a drink, and ordered Andrea one as well. She could sense the young woman was anxious about takeoff, so she took Andrea's hand in her own, pressing her lips to Andrea's knuckles as Andrea closed her eyes and held her breath. Thirty seconds later, the airplane was steadying. Miranda squeezed Andrea's hand and pressed her hand to her cheek. "Andrea, we're in the air, you can open your eyes," she said.

Andrea sighed and took a drink from her glass as Miranda did the same. After all the wine they had been drinking over the past few weeks, scotch provided a refreshing burn as the liquid entered her body. On an empty stomach, she could feel the intoxication creeping through her veins, giving her courage to have this conversation with Miranda.

She set down her glass and turned in her seat to face Miranda, "So, what will happen once we arrive in New York?"

"I don't know," Miranda said, staring out the window. "What do you want to happen?"

"Come on!" Andrea said, growing visibly upset. "You know exactly what I mean. Everyone knows you in New York. Reporters will probably be at your house. And I'm just the assistant who accompanied you on a trip. Roy will drop you off, then take me home."

"Andrea, calm down," Miranda said calmly. "That first day, when we arrived, you…you said…you told me that you loved me." She paused before adding, "Why?"

"Because it's the truth," Andrea mumbled.

"What?"

"It's the truth, Miranda!" Andrea replied in frustration. "My god, have I not made it clear? Do you seriously doubt—" she paused, sighing and shaking her head. "Okay, I'm sorry. But yes, that's the truth." Andrea realized that Miranda was just expressing her insecurities, and she kicked herself for arguing with her instead of being supportive. Miranda had her arms crossed over her chest as she stared out the window.

"Miranda," Andrea said, placing her hand on Miranda's upper arm. "Yes, I do love you. I want to be a part of your life. I can no longer imagine my life without you, without falling asleep and waking up with you, without watching television or sitting in silence with you." She paused, and when Miranda didn't respond, she continued, "But, I do understand that you have much more at stake here, so if—"

Miranda quickly turned and took Andrea's hand in her own. "Andrea, you really, truly love me? Me, the 'ice queen,' the 'devil in prada'?"

"Yes," she said, smiling. "I love you regardless of misnomer. I love you for the beautiful woman you are, inside and out."

Miranda smiled and squeezed Andrea's hand tightly. "Andrea, where are you going when we return to New York?"

"Um…my apartment, but I think I need to stop in at Runway, why?"

Miranda thought for a moment. The girls were at their father's, and she would be returning home by herself, alone in the huge townhouse. "Well, I was thinking," she began, "perhaps you can come to the townhouse for dinner or something? I mean, if you have the time."

"Sure, that sounds great. So what about Runway?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Andrea began, her voice shaky, "I know it's been a few weeks, but I still work for you, and well, isn't it a problem if we see each other outside of work?"

"Don't be silly, Andrea. It's only a problem if you want to see it as a problem. As Editor in Chief, I can disclose our relationship to Human Resources—basically, so they can protect you if I decide to unlawfully terminate you—but nothing needs to change…unless of course, you are having second thoughts."

Andrea's eyes grew wide at Miranda's words. "I—OMG—you're ready to do that?"

"Absolutely, Andrea."

"So, when I bring the Book every night, I can maybe hang around for a little while?" she asked, wagging her eyebrows.

Miranda chuckled. "Andrea, when you bring the Book home each night, I do hope you'll hang up your coat in our closet before changing into something more comfortable and having dinner with me. And," she added, "returning with me to Runway in the morning."

"Really?" Andrea asked, trying to process that Miranda just asked her to move in. "Uh, wow, yes! Of course, I would love to."

"Good," Miranda said, her eyes beaming.

"What about Caroline & Cassidy—what will you tell them?"

Miranda let go of Andrea's hand and folded her hands in her lap. "I don't know. They made their decision, and I need to give them time."

"Are you concerned they will think you don't want to spend time with them?" Andrea asked.

"Do you not want to spend time with them?" Miranda spat back.

"No! That's not what I meant. Your daughters are great, and I adore them. I love spending time with them. But will they just look at us as another excuse for you to be busy and not with them?"

Miranda was speechless. "How dare you—" she said, her eyes glowing with anger.

"Calm down," Andrea said, placing her hands on Miranda's shoulders. "I want you to spend more time with them. I know they make you happy, and well, that makes me happy. If they don't want me around, you need to accept that, too."

"Andrea, that is ridiculous—" Miranda began.

"No, Miranda," she interrupted. "We have the rest of our lives to see each other. They are still children and deserve their mother's full attention."

Miranda sighed. "If they even want it," she muttered.

"Don't think like that. They will come back to you, you'll see."

"I hope you're right, Andrea. I can't risk losing you," she said.

"You won't," Andrea reassured her, "you won't." Andrea laid her head on Miranda's shoulder and wrapped her right arm around Miranda's waist as she drifted off to sleep.


	8. Epilogue

When their plane landed, Emily was waiting at the terminal to begin debriefing Miranda and run through the upcoming schedule. She was genuinely surprised at how casual and relaxed Miranda looked, and how comfortable she was acting around Andrea, but then again, they spent nearly a month together between Paris and Washington. Andrea was trailing behind them as they walked through security and to the exit, and she practically ran into Miranda when she suddenly stopped in the middle of the airport.

"Emily," Miranda said impatiently. "None of this right now," she said, waving her hand in the air. "I will be in first thing—what day is today?—I will be in first thing Monday morning, and expect a full report. Why don't you take the day off tomorrow, Emily? If I absolutely need anything, Andrea can take care of it. I'm sure you've been working very hard these past few weeks."

"Yes, Miranda, of course. Thank you," she said, shocked at the words that came from Miranda's mouth. Emily quickly looked to Andrea, but Andrea just shrugged.

Just then, Roy greeted them, ready to take their bags. "Welcome home, Miranda," he said. She smiled and whispered something in his ear before getting into the car.

Emily and Andrea both went for the backseat to sit next to Miranda, blocking each other as they each had one foot in the vehicle. Miranda tried to hide her amusement. "Emily, you will sit in front with Roy. Please see that the digital photos are emailed to me, along with the Book, which I presume you've all been working on, right?"

"Yes, Miranda," Emily replied as she scurried into the front seat and pulled out her computer. Miranda smiled to herself—Emily needed to see that side of Miranda or else the poor young woman might have a nervous breakdown.

When Andrea climbed into the back seat, Miranda reached out her arm and pulled her across the seat, close to herself. "Darling, I can't seem to keep my hands off you," she said as her lips hovered over Andrea's neck, her hands exploring the younger woman's very clothed and buttoned-up body.

"Miranda, I actually have to check my email," Andrea chuckled, trying to free herself from the other woman's grasp.

"Whatever," Miranda said, lifting her arm and repositioning herself so Andrea was leaning on her chest, refusing to break contact. Andrea reached her right hand around and quickly pulled out her phone and turned it on. She received confirmations of the emails she sent before she left, plus one special, brief reply from Miranda's ex-husband: Andrea, Thank you for your note. I spoke with the girls, and we sent Miranda an email. She's quite lucky to have you, you know. -James

Andrea quickly locked her phone before realizing Miranda was looking out the window and not at her screen. "Miranda, did you get any emails while you were gone?" she asked unsuspiciously.

"Here," Miranda said, pulling her phone out of her bag and handing it to Andrea. "I'm sure it's just issues I'm not ready to deal with. I'm certainly not interested in talking to Stephen or Leslie or even Nigel just yet, so—"

"What about James?" Andrea asked, cutting Miranda off mid-sentence.

Miranda bolted upright, snatching the phone from Andrea's hand. "It's…it's from the girls…" Miranda whispered as her eyes scanned the message.  
Hi Mom! (Dad is helping us write this, don't worry, we're not online without supervision!) When are you getting back to NYC? We miss you. We're sorry about Stephen. You know we didn't like him, but you did, and we're sorry he left. It's his loss, though, losing someone as awesome and pretty as you. We're also sorry we left you. Hopefully you had a nice vacation. It's been okay here at Dad's. Nicole, his new wife, is going to have a baby, so we helped her pick out some toys and clothes for him. She even let us help decorate his nursery. Christmas is coming up in like less than a week, and we were wondering if we can still spend the week with you. If you already made plans, it's okay. We did say we didn't want to see you—We're really really REALLY sorry, Mom. Please let us know when you're back.   
Hugs & kisses,  
Care & Cass  
P.S. Hope you're doing better, Mir. Of course the girls are always welcome here, but I think they're ready to go home now. Call me. Let me know what I can do to help you out. -J

Miranda read over the email again and again as tears streamed down her face. Andrea was growing teary-eyed just watching Miranda, seeing how happy the email made her. Andrea reached down and picked up her hand, squeezing it tightly. Miranda looked over at Andrea and kissed her softly on the lips before burying her head in the younger woman's wool jacket.

"Miranda, we won't be home for twenty minutes in this traffic—would you like to send a quick email, explaining that you'll call later?"

Miranda nodded and picked up her phone, her hands trembling so much she couldn't type. Andrea gently took the phone from her and began typing:  
Hi my darlings, It's so wonderful to hear from you. My flight just landed a few minutes ago. I will call you as soon as I'm home. I missed you so much and can't wait to see you. I love you—  
Love & kisses,  
Mom

Miranda nodded and Andrea clicked 'Send.' She was still amazed by the young woman next to her—how easily she fit into her life. It seemed natural for Andrea to write an email like that on her behalf to her daughters. It was silly, but it felt like Andrea could read her mind sometimes, and that was a feeling Miranda was not used to. As Miranda wrapped her arm tighter around her companion, she realized fully what she was dragging Andrea into—ex-husbands, divorces, custody battles, and then there was the press. She handled it all with such grace, allowing Miranda time to be with her family, to deal with her conflicting emotions—shit, Miranda thought, she arranged two weeks' vacation at one of the most stressful times of the year, just to help me straighten out my life and get back on track. At first, Miranda was skeptical of Andrea's intentions, booking them in such a secluded resort, but Andrea genuinely did not expect to be invited in the first place. In fact, she made sure to find a place with a separate guest bedroom for herself.

She smiled to herself and looked up, only to lock eyes with Andrea. "Darling?" she said quietly as she intertwined their fingers, "I don't remember where we ended our conversation, but will you come home with me tonight? I can drive you back to your apartment later if you'd like, but I just—"

"Shh," Andrea said as she pressed her index finger to Miranda's lips, "Yes, I will come home with you. I will eventually need to run home to pick up some additional items, but, well, not tonight."

Miranda took Andrea's hand and softly kissed her palm. "Andrea," she began as Roy started lowering the privacy screen.

"Miranda, we're turning on your block," he said.

She sat up and smoothed out her hair as she nodded, "Thank you, Roy. Once you get the luggage in the house, please give Emily a ride wherever she needs." Roy nodded as he pulled up to the curb in front of Miranda's home.

He collected all of their luggage and led them up the stairs of the townhouse. Andrea knew Emily must be dying to know why Roy was dropping Andrea off at the townhouse and not at her apartment, but she decided to let Emily's mind wander for a bit longer.

Miranda shut the townhouse door and locked it behind her. Home. She had been away for over three weeks. The space almost seemed unfamiliar to her. She slowly walked through the hallway, through the den and kitchen, refamiliarizing herself with the place. Miranda stopped as she turned to face the hall, Andrea leaning against the doorframe. "Call the girls," Andrea urged, bringing Miranda back to reality.

"Oh, yes, of course," she said, tossing her coat across the couch as she sat down and picked up the phone. Andrea quickly gathered Miranda's coat and motioned that she would hang it up, implying that she would also give Miranda privacy for her call. "Andrea," Miranda called, "come back here and sit with me."

Andrea hung their coats and removed her heeled boots before returning to the den and taking a seat next to Miranda on the couch. She placed a reassuring hand on Miranda's thigh as she dialed James' phone number.

"Hello?"

"James," she said, sighing into the phone as she leaned back into the couch. "I just walked in the door. Are the girls available?…Thank you…Bobbseys!" Miranda said as the girls jumped on the phone. "I have missed you two so much, and I would very much like for you to spend your week off with me…Mm-hmm, of course…Yes, darlings, it is up to you, you're almost teenagers, but remember you always have a home here, and you're always welcome here…Okay…Now do you remember Andrea, my assistant?…yes, the Harry Potter girl," Miranda confirmed, rolling her eyes as she glanced over to Andrea. She put her hand on top of Andrea's and squeezed it tightly. "Would it be okay if Andrea joins us for Christmas?…Of course, think about it…Yes, it would, very much so." Miranda said, smiling at Andrea. "Okay, goodnight my darlings. I love you very much. I can't wait to see you!…Yes, please put your father on. Love you!" Miranda said as the girls handed the phone to James.

"James, thank you so much—I have no idea how or what you said, but thank you. I needed this so much—needed them. Even if they choose to stay with you, I couldn't stand to have them hating me."

"Miranda," he said, "you should really be thanking Andrea."

"What?"

"She cares about you very much. She wrote to me to let us know that you would be returning, and she made me realize how much you needed them. Hold onto this one, Mir," he said.

"Oh, I intend to," she said with a smirk. "James, I know I can trust you to keep something quiet."

"Yes, of course, what's wrong?"

"Andrea and I are seeing each other. This is all very new, but it feels right. I've asked her to move in, but she wants to wait and gauge the girls' reactions."

"Wow," he said, "I'm not sure what to say. I'm really happy for you, Miranda. I don't know her that well, but from what I've seen, she's absolutely devoted to making you happy."

"I know," she said. "I'm still trying to grasp that myself. But I really wanted to tell you for the girls' sake."

"Of course. I support you in whatever you choose, Miranda, as long as it's not that asshole Stephen."

"Oh god, don't remind me," she said with a laugh. "Okay, now I better get going."

"Goodnight, Miranda. Really, I'm happy for you."

"Thank you, James, that really means a lot. You're a very good man, and a wonderful father to the girls. I am very grateful for you."

"Geez, Miranda, you know I'll always love you. Take care of yourself. And take care of Andrea, she deserves it."

"I know. Goodnight," she said, ending the call. She placed the cordless back on its charger and returned to the couch, shaking her head. Andrea wrapped her long arms around Miranda from behind, resting her chin on Miranda's shoulder.

"I take it your conversation went well?" she asked.

"Yes, it did," Miranda said as she turned to face Andrea. Placing one hand on each side of Andrea's face, she looked deeply into her eyes. "Andrea Sachs, I love you," she said, "and I might not say it as often as you want, but I need you to know that. It's more than overcoming grief or finding a friend, I feel like my life has been incomplete until you."

"Oh, Miranda," she said, wrapping her arms tightly around Miranda's neck, hungrily devouring Miranda's lips.

"Andrea, wait," she said, pulling back from Andrea's hot lips. "Whatever you said to James, thank you. I was too scared that they would ignore me or refuse my call again, so I tried to put it out of my mind, but you saw—you saw what I needed and you made your own decision to act upon it." She casually brushed the hair away from Andrea's face.

"So what did James tell you about me?" Andrea inquired.

"He's happy for me and quite supportive. He thinks you're absolutely devoted to me, and he urged me to take care of you," she said as she continued playing with Andrea's hair. "I really do need to call Sharon in HR first thing tomorrow morning, before Emily starts rumors," Miranda said, chuckling.

"I can't wait to see the look on her face," Andrea said. "Can I please be the one to tell her how hard I made you come on that kitchen counter?"

"Andrea!" Miranda said, teasingly swatting at her shoulder. "Absolutely not!—I will be the one to tell her how wet I make you, and how delicious you taste."

They laughed as they collapsed into each others arms on the sofa. Home, Andrea thought. It felt like home. Andrea interrupted her thoughts, "You know, we should really thank Stephen, and not for simply freeing you up. If he wasn't such a jerk to send the divorce papers overseas, who knows if I ever would have seen the real you, seen you vulnerable and raw."

"Andrea, you can't possibly say you liked that?"

"No, no, I hope you never have to go back to that place again. But when you let your facade down, that's when I fell in love with you and knew there was no turning back."

Miranda smiled and wrapped her arms tightly around Andrea. It felt so wonderful, she thought, just laying there in the comfort and security of another's arms. Of course there were plenty of places in the townhouse where she imagined making love to Andrea, she relaxed, knowing the other woman would always be there to take away her pain.

The End.


End file.
